Keryon Gonplei

PART 1: A Soul that Wanders

Chapter 1:

Clarke shot up from her bed in The Skybox. She ran to the door and ran her hands down its edges confirming that it was in fact real. A fierce panic was blooming in her gut and she paced the rest of the room. She noticed every crack was in the same place, every chip of paint and scratch. This was her cell. No dream could be this detailed, at least none she had experienced before now.

Clarke did notice however that not all of her drawings were the same. Or rather that they were not as complete as when she had left them. She looked more closely at the drawings on the wall and deduced that she was at least a couple of weeks away from being sent to the ground.

But that was impossible. There was no way to travel back in time. If there were she would definitely not have arrived in her old body, crossing paths and what not. Maybe this was a way to avoid paradoxes.

It was a ridiculous line of thinking. She couldn’t possibly be here. There was no way she had arrived in a room before the events of the ground. If she had, if this was real, would it be a blessing or a curse? Off course it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

Nonetheless she found herself thinking of critical moments. Thinking of what moments had defined people. Letting 300 people in The Ark get killed to save them air had been a harsh reality for Bellamy. It had made him grow as a leader and a person in general. Reports from her mother had described Kane going through a similar transformation.  Could she change that? Would it be right for her to change that? Would those two discover their potentials for leadership own their own, without that hanging over them?

There were too many questions, too many unknowns.

Clarke paced her cell, back and forth a hundred times before realising that she hated being here, that she had always hated being stuck in the confines of the Ark. She had dreamed of the endlessness of the ground, the wide open fields and the vast spaces.

She wondered if she could speed up the process to get her to the ground. She wondered just how close her predictions of the date were. There was nothing she could do but wait.

Hours passed and Clarke became increasingly anxious as to the reality of her situation. No hallucination worth their while would have you pacing in a room for hours with nothing else. Latches on the cell door clanked open and her head whipped around, wondering what the purpose of its opening was.

“Breakfast, prisoner.” A curt voice echoed through a small gap in her door before a tray was roughly shoved through.

Clarke scrambled to her feet, and grabbed the tray. “Hey, what’s the date?” she asked him. His hand tensed on the tray, not letting it go.

“What did you say to me prisoner?!” There was a harsh, quiet reply.

Clarke sighed, remembering that the Skybox guards were mostly the ones that couldn’t be trusted with ordinary guard work. “I just, I lose track of time in here. I-I wondered...” She made her voice crack. Maybe she’d get his pity. “W-what the date was? To see how long I’ve got....?”

The guard roughly let go of the tray, some of its contents splattered on the floor with the force of it.

Clarke thought she wasn’t going to get an answer, but just before the hatch closed a date was growled at her.

Twenty days until the drop ship. Just under three weeks. Three more weeks of being trapped in this tight little cell.

Clarke sat down on the edge of her bed disheartened. She scooped up a piece of slop on her tray, eating Ark food for the first time in a long while. Three more weeks, she thought, of terrible food.

Clarke couldn’t sleep that night. She couldn’t turn her brain off, and was infected with thoughts of every death she had witnessed on the ground. After that there was a balance found; she would either dream of that peaceful glade waking up content and rested. Or she would wake up wreathing from a horrible nightmare. Mostly of the Mountain, but her older dreams plagued her as well. She dreamt of her Father flying out of an air lock, Charlotte leaping from that cliff, Lincoln being tortured by her own people. 

***

                The days passed painfully slow in Clarke’s cell. Being in solitary meant she got no visitation. They feared that she would tell someone that the Ark was dying.

                She did not know if they were right.

                Her days were spent thinking too much. In between this she drew sketches of important things from the ground. A crude map showing the drop ship location relative to TonDC, Mount Weather and things like water sources and game tracks her people had discovered that were good places to start hunting. She drew the drop ship, the map of the inside of the mountain and her memory of the pieces of the Ark that had survived their landing.

                Then she drew people. Her mother may not have been able to visit her but she was handed extra pieces of charcoal throughout her days in solitary. She drew Anya, and Lincoln, and Lexa and Gustus. Perhaps her sketches of some people were more detailed than others, but she did not linger on this.

                When she wasn’t thinking or drawing she exercised. She had done that last time, there were negative health effects to people on the Ark that didn’t keep up physical activity. The gravity that the Ark’s rotation generated wasn’t quite that of earth and it was possible to see inconsistencies in muscular structure. This time however she was doing different things. In the few weeks leading up to the attack on The Mountain, she had been taught the beginnings of hand to hand combat. Now she ran through several moves achingly slow and was sweating by the end of each sequence. She stopped after each move and looked at the placement of her feet and arms, making sure she was balanced and strong.

                Other exercises were implemented in her scheme. Things to build up muscles and increase fitness father than just something to maintain a BMI. These things were escapes for her. When she was drawing she could focus on a specific moment and forget about the implications of her position. When she practised the forms the grounders had started teaching her she could focus her attention to a tunnel vision, forgetting everything. Eventually though she always had to remember.

                How am I here? She would think to herself. The last thing she remembered was sitting with Lexa in that clearing. The clearing that felt so important to her, it was so powerful, but she couldn’t figure out how or why she felt this. They’d been talking, they were weary; right at the end they were falling asleep, weren’t they?

                Could she save her people? There were two boys at the beginning that unstrapped themselves from their seats and died when the ship landed. How could she use what she knew to her advantage, without raising suspicion?

                The days continued to pass tediously and Clarke still fretted about what to do. Though now she had the beginnings of a plan. Her people had to come first. That was a given. The Ark had to be informed of their survival and the hundred on the ground needed to band together quickly to start gathering resources as soon as possible.

                Clarke knew where several barrels of guns were stored, she knew there were more there than what they had found last time. She would find them, but not tell anyone, she would use it for hunting, and slowly giving them to people she trusted not to go on rampages against the grounders. They would not go to Mount Weather. The crossing point was mostly guarded, and she didn’t know how to make her people believe it wasn’t a good idea.

                She kept thinking. What would she do with Murphy? He was trouble, and she didn’t know how to keep him off everyone’s backs, and vice versa. Bellamy had to be convinced that he didn’t kill Jaha. Half of Clarkes plans were broken down and made redundant when she thought about it too much. Then there was the problem of time. Would it fight against her? Would it resist the changes she would try to make?

                She was going crazy in the Skybox. Time was simultaneously moving too fast and not fast enough, she was only sleeping well half the time and it was taking its toll.

                She had made marks on the piece of wall above her bed and smudged each one out as a new day came. Finally, after twenty days of a hell that rivalled the Mountain, two guards entered her cell.

***

                "Prisoner 319, face the wall." She had hidden her father's watch behind the waistband of her jeans; she would not let them take it last time, and she wouldn't let it happen now either. She held her arm out when they asked and they seemed curious as to why she wasn't protesting, confused. All she gave them was a defiant stare. But she had to put on a show.

                One guard scoffed at her defiance and turn to the other, about to say something, and she bolted, dodging their attempts to stop her and shutting the door to her cell behind her, guards and all. She saw others in the skybox being escorted around and everything suddenly felt very surreal.         The cell door open and she made to run, her mother calling for her to stop, just like last time. Everything had been theoretical before now, buy her mother looked at her just like she had the first time. She shook her head. "Mom, what's going on?" and Abigail Griffin embraced her daughter. The question wasn't an act this time.

                Clarke was being overwhelmed, the weight of the world coming down on her like a tonne of bricks. It was all real. She had to warn her mother. She had to help them. Everyone on the Ark, all the members of The Hundred and the grounders that didn't know better. She had to help them, save them.

                Her heart was beating in her chest. She had to choose, right now. What would she say, what could she say to help their people? "The Comm.'s will go down." She felt her mother's grip on her tighten.

                "Clarke, what-?"

                "No, listen. I know we're going to the ground." Her mother pushed her back to look her in the eyes. Brown eyes sharp, and attentive met her own. "The Comm.'s will go down, but I'll send you a message. Look at the order." She said

                "Clarke, how do you- What do mean?"

                Words tumbled out of her mouth now, unsure if she'd overstepped. "Hopefully there won't be any spelling mistakes." Abby frowned, looking at her daughter with concern. "You can bring the whole Ark down. And send Raven. Raven Reyes, she'll help you. Put a proper medkit in the drop ship this time, hopefully we-we won't need it, but-"

                A pair of warm hands settled themselves on Clarke's cheeks and she lifted her eyes from where they had sunk to the floor. "Breathe Clarke." Her mother didn't seem to be listening to a word she had said, but she took a steadying breath anyway. She swallowed her next outburst of words and traded it for another deep breath. "You're being sent to the ground. All one hundred of you."

                It was the same speech. Take care of yourself, you'll want to put others first. "I know," Clarke responded sharply, "Mom, you have to hear m-..." she felt a small sharp pain in her back and everything started fading to black. This was not the start she had hoped for.

***

                She came to on the drop ship and Wells was sitting beside her. "Welcome back." He spoke confidently, though his eyes betrayed him. He waited for an outburst that wouldn't come.

                All Clarke did was whisper his name, glad to see his face.

                "Look, when I..." his words faded into the background and she searched the faces around her. Tears came to her eyes seeing everyone alive. She would know them all this time. She vowed this to herself. She would learn all their names, their stories, she would do better. Wells was alive, and still fighting for her. She pondered briefly how she would convince him that she knew. He hadn't sold out her father, though all that seemed so long ago. Although thoughts of him still left a painful, gaping ache in her chest, it was no longer a fresh tearing one. Even if Wells had sold out her father, she would have forgiven him, in time; just as she had forgiven her Mother.

                The drop ship jolted as it hit the atmosphere, and Chancellor Jaha's message started speaking over them. She didn't listen, though she did scoff at the mention of Mount Weather.

                Finn Collins unclasped his belt and started floating. A panic arose in Clarkes chest and she snapped her eyes across the room and saw the two others trying to get out of their own seats. She’d replayed this moment in her head a thousand times and all she would be able to do is talk them out of it. She took a deep, shuddering breath. It started now. This was when she saved her people, right now.

                “Hey space walker!” she called out condescendingly. “Do you think the hundred year old bucket of rust is gonna have a nice landing then you’re wrong.” Finn’s face split into a smug grin, and somewhere in Clarke’s chest something tensed at the sight.

                The two boys across from her had paused and looked up briefly at their exchange. “What’s wrong Prince-“ Clarke saw the boys go back to cutting at their seat belts and cut Finn off.

                “I don’t know about the rest of these guys, but I don’t really want to scrape you off the drop ship floor before we even get to the ground.” To punctuate her sentence the whole ship shuddered once and Fin’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Get back in your seat, space walker.”

                There was a tense moment when everyone’s eyes were on the two of them. They locked stares to see who would give in first. The two boys across the way had stopped again, and were waiting with baited breath to see Finn’s response. Clarke wasn’t budging. She nodded her head over to the boys and Fin finally looked over and saw why she was being so adamant. “Okay.” He said quietly and pulled himself back to his seat. The other two seamed to deflate at the news, but remained in their seats nonetheless.

                Clarke felt a heavy stare burning at her to her right and she turned to Wells. In her peripheral she saw Finn glide quickly back to his seat. It looked like she had just been fast enough as the parachutes deployed, jolting the whole ship violently.

                The young Jaha's eyes widened and said something about rockets and Clarke knew she was supposed to reassure him that it wouldn't take long, but she could see the inevitable coming. "There's something I have to tell you." He said and she suddenly felt like her foreknowledge wouldn't help her at all. Could she just say she knew? No. The alternative was horrible, but maybe it would placate him for a while.

                "You didn't get my Father arrested, Wells, he did that to himself." They were bold words, and she hoped he couldn't see through the lie. She would never think ill of her Father.

                Once again his eyes widened, and she could see him trying to process what she'd said. There was an awkward pause in their chatter, but Wells took another deep breath. " I know you think it was my fault though, and I can't die knowing that you hate me." The sentence seemed overly presumptuous this time round.  

                "It wasn't your fault Wells, and I don't hate you." What she did hate were the memories of this moment from before. She had been so brash, and quick to anger. Perhaps making him think she blamed her Father wasn't as terrible as she's thinking it would be.

                The ship landed and she ran down to the lower levels, seeing Bellamy Blake as he was when they first met. She let that scene play out as it had, without interrupting about toxic air. Octavia remained the first person of the Ark to step foot on the ground and everyone flooded out excitedly. When her feet touched the earth again, she felt like she was returning home, after a long day. She moved out of the way of the others and watched their excitement with a sad smile.

                Finn traipsed up to her and she rolled her eyes. She didn't have enough in her to play along, he called her Princess and asked why the long face and she said nothing. He wasn't ruined by the ground yet. He wasn't changed. He hadn't killed eighteen unarmed people, trying to find her. He was still Finn. She sighed morosely. Maybe he would stay that way this time, but she was already changed, already a killer of several hundred innocents inside the mountain. Perhaps she could convince him that he would see Raven again, one day soon. Maybe that would make him keep his distance. He studied her curiously and introduced himself. She only nodded and he wandered off.

                A short while later, after she'd gathered a few things, Wells approached her and told her they needed to get to Mount Weather. Her eyes hardened and she spoke sharply. "I don't think hundred year old intel is gonna help us now, Wells. We need to hunt and find water." He was about to protest. "And you need to keep your head down. Half these kids lost their parents to your father's reign. You need to convince them slowly that you're not the same person he is." His frowned and she moved away from him, towards Bellamy Blake. They couldn't be at odds. The group suffered too much last time around; it suffered every time they didn't agree.

                "Blake," she called out, thankfully Octavia wasn't nearby, or she would have had to navigate the both of them. "You gotta second?" She nodded her head towards the drop ship. His expression went stormy, but he followed her inside anyway.

                "What do you want, Princess?" Good to know she wouldn't escape that nickname, ever. She took a breath. Bellamy was going to be the wild card. Either he'd rebel outright, or see reason, and Clarke saw it as a fifty-fifty chance.

                Start with the basics, she thought. "Bellamy, right? I'm Clarke, Clarke Griffin." He nodded "Do you know why they sent us down here?" He shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arms. One eyebrow rose as an unamused invitation to continue. "The Ark is dying. They're going to run out of air real soon, unless they see that people can survive on the ground." She paused again, as his face scrunched up impatiently.

                "Why would I care, what happens on the Ark? We're down here, and they're up there."

                "If they don't see that we can survive down here then they'll cull. They'll pick the people they think are least important and get rid of them, blaming it on an engineering fault."

                "How the hell do you know this? And why the hell are you telling me?" He wasn't impressed, this wasn't working.

                "My father found out, they floated him for it, and I'm telling you because you shot Jaha."

                Lighting fast he pulled out his hand gun, darting in close and pressing it up, under her chin. His breathing was ragged and Clarke worried that she'd stepped over the line. She had to change things, and she needed Bellamy's help to do it.

                "He's not dead." She spoke softly, but confidently "And I'm betting he wants to know who put you up to it. These kids need someone to lead them, and I can see they already look up to you." There was a flicker in his eyes, whether he was doubting himself or Clarke, she didn't know. "In that vid message Jaha said all crimes would be pardoned if we stayed alive, I don't see why that can't apply to you as well. If he tries to change that, then he'll have all you're little friends to go through. You just need to win them over first."

                There was a spark of hope in his eyes, but she still hadn't won him over. The handgun pressed harder up into her neck. "And what do you get out of this?" it was a carefully placed question.

                "You help keep my people alive. That's all I want here; just to keep them safe, happy if possible, but I'll settle for breathing." There was a long, heavy silence as he searched her eyes, glancing form one to the other, looking for a lie.

                "They'll never pardon me." He practically spat. His ire for the Ark was palpable.

                "They will if you keep their children alive, and let them know that they can follow." Her tone was harsh with its veracity. This was the truth. She didn't just believe it, she'd lived it. He took an unconscious step backwards, out of her space and started to lower the gun.

                "You really believe that, don't you?" It wasn't condescending, it was sincere. Clarke was almost startled by how shy he seemed asking that question.

                "I know it." And faster than his own gun draw, she snapped two hands out, one after the other and was quickly holding the handgun. "Now, I'm going to shoot us some food. Get them building a fire that will cook something big, and set out troughs to catch any rain that falls."

                He stood, stunned. He looked down at his empty hands and then back to her and looked begrudgingly impressed. She didn't give him a chance to respond and only walked towards the exit.

                Once outside, she checked the weapon openly and swapped it out for her Father's watch, putting it back on her wrist. As she traipsed towards the river Finn and Wells both strode up to her.    "Where did you get a gun?" Wells sounded shocked, and  clearly disapproved.

                "Where're we going Princess? We gonna catch some Mountain food?" Finn interrupted.

                Clarke's head was still in the drop ship, analysing her conversation with Bellamy. There was no way he'd come around that easy. Give him a day and he'd be doubting himself. She was going to have to move quickly, or find a way to actually convince him.

                "Jasper, Monty." She called out and the two best friends turned to face them. Clarke stopped in her tracks when Jasper turned with a grin spread wide on his face. She was struck with the image of him on the floor holding Maya, despising her.

                "Yeeeah?" He spoke, looking at her curiously.

                'I-I..." She shook her head briefly, dispelling the unwanted image, knowing that tonight was not a night she would sleep. "We're going hunting. You guys can follow, and help bring back whatever we catch."

                "What makes you think there's anything living on this hunk of rock?" Octavia strutted up behind them and circled Finn with a predators eye.

                "If tree's can grow, food can grow. There has to be a food chain. Let's go." She nodded to Octavia in invitation. They strode off, but not two strides in, Bellamy stepped out of the drop ship and called after his sister. "I'll bring her back in one piece Bellamy." She said it nonchalantly and O scoffed. "Either that or she'll bring me back in pieces." Her second scoff was more a laugh then disgust, and Clarke was reminded of how much the younger Blake would grow, here on the ground.

                Clarke, Monty, Jasper, Finn, Wells and Octavia headed out to find some food, and Clarke knew just where to get it.

                As they neared the spot where she saw the deer last time she gestured for silence and drew the gun. They'd set off a little quicker this time than last, so the deer wasn't there yet. She waited, steadying her breathing so she could aim more steadily.

                "What are-" Monty Whispered, but was cut off by the animal entering their view from the left. The other's were mesmerised by the creature, but Clarke just raised the gun with a deep breath, let half the breath out and held it; then she squeezed the trigger, twice, moving ever so slightly between each shot. The gunfire echoed horribly through the forest and Clarke pondered on how much more quickly she could grab the Grounders attentions. One shot hit the deer's chest, the other its neck, at the impact, it scrambled a few steps before collapsing to the ground.

                Clarke moved forward quickly, scanning the trees, just in case. The deer wasn't breathing when she got to it, thankfully. She lay a hand on its nose and thanked it under her breath anyway. The others followed after her eventually, they all looked a little sad, that she had killed the first animal they'd ever seen. Nonetheless, she directed them to grab a small log and tie the animal to it with some straps she'd taken from the drop ship.

                Once they had it all tied up she told them where they needed to go to get back to camp and gestured for them to start moving. They turned, but realised she wasn't following. "So you get out of lugging this thing back. Typical." Octavia commented. She could tell just by looking at the Sky Princess that no amount of words would change her mind.

                Sadly Wells did not get the memo. "What are you doing? We have to go back."

                "Yes, you do. I'll scout around a bit  though. We need to find a water source, in case it doesn't rain." Once again, her conviction was enough to turn most of them around. They started moving after a few quick words of luck. Wells stayed standing there, looking at her like she was a different person; and he was right.

                "How did you do that?" He asked. "You knew exactly what to do, you killed something Clarke!"

                That's the least of the things I've killed, she thought to herself. "Take the deer back Wells, We'll talk more when I get back." She tried for a reassuring smile, "Just save me a good bit, okay?"

                He just shook his head, mouth open. He wasn't buying anything. "No, Clarke! You just killed something, and you didn't bat an eye, and before, on the drop ship, you said it was your father that got himself killed. What the hell is going on with you!?"

                "I don't know!" She yelled. She'd had enough, she just wanted a few moments to think, so she could try and track her lies and figure out her next move. "I don't know what's going on Wells! But I know you didn't sell out my Father, that was my Mother's fault! I do know that!" He looked shocked, but somehow relieved, he could stop letting her believe it was his fault. "Just take the deer back, Wells. I just- I need to think, and someone needs to find water. I'll be back before morning." She had deflated a bit, by the end of it, and now he just looked sad.

                He nodded solemnly, "Okay, but you have to promise to talk to me, when you get back, okay?"

                She pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated. "Fine." She turned on her heel and strode off through the woods, raking her hands through her hair and desperately trying to gather her thoughts.

                She headed to the river, trying to be loud and not attempting to hide her movements at all. She made a show of standing ankle deep in the water and splashing about until the river snake arrived, to which she promptly scurried out. After that she put her boots back on and made like she was making a rope. All this may have been unnecessary, but she had no other way of knowing what had captured Jasper's attackers attentions last time. Part way through constructing her rope she thought she'd pinpointed the position where the grounder- no Trikru warrior had been hiding last time, and she started sneaking towards that location.

                Every step was placed softly and carefully, making for a slow pace, but she soon found herself staring at the back of a crouched form, that was looking out towards the river. She had her gun out, in case thing went south, but she'd only take out a leg and then patch him up if he tried something. She stood up straight and deliberately cocked her gun.

                The man spun about at the sound of the click. He raised his spear with widened eyes and Clarke had to act quickly. "Whoa whoa whoa!" She raised her hands in submission and let the gun hang from one finger. "I didn't come to hurt you, just to talk."

                He paused halfway through his strike and managed to halt its progress. He stopped and stared at her intently through his mask. He was breathing heavily, clearly shocked at her arrival. He was studying the trees around her, trying to discern whether she was the only one, and how she’d snuck up on him in the first place.

                “We don’t want a fight, we just crashed here, none of us wants a fight.” She slowly lowered the gun and placed it on the ground. The warrior before her seemed to be assessing her words, but abruptly remembered that he was supposed to pretend he couldn’t speak English. It was standard operating procedure for Trikru warriors, so they could gather as much information on the enemy as possible.

                He seemed done with gathering information. His eyes hardened and he raised his spear to strike her down. Clarke sank down, defeated. That was it then. She’d thought that maybe things were starting off well.

                His spear was coming rapidly towards her chest, and she was so preoccupied with her inevitable death that she didn’t register a fast moving object fly right by her ear. The warrior’s momentum abruptly changed directions and his spear hand was driven back, slamming against the tree beside him. He was pinned there.

                The warrior looked more shocked than when Clarke had snuck up behind him. His eyes shot around at all angles, looking for the one responsible for putting him there. Then, his eyes finally settled onto the hilt of the small knife, pressed tightly against his skin, but not wounding him. It went through the leathers of his arm, and when he focused on the knife’s hilt, he froze.

                He took a few shaking breaths and preceded to try and rip himself free. He didn’t move to unpin the blade from his clothes; he just tugged at it, becoming more frantic with each pull. When he did unpin himself he stumbled onto the ground and held his torn sleeve like he’d been burnt. He scrambled to his feet, still looking at the trees around him. He swallowed heavily before settling his eyes back on Clarke.

                Clarke was at a miss. Her own heart was beating in her chest. Someone had just saved her life, and this guy was acting like he’d seen a ghost. The warrior before her seemed to forget himself. “What do you want?” it seemed a more complex question than Clarke had an answer for.

                “W-,“ She was uncertain what to say “We just want to live; in peace, if possible.” Their eyes were locked, trying to find answers in each other. “Tell your leaders that we don’t want any trouble.”

                He said nothing. Slowly, he tore his eyes from her and searched the trees once more. Finding nothing he warily retrieved his spear, and started backing away from her, retreating into the trees.

                Clarke remained stunned, and in place for a handful of heartbeats, before she too started searching the trees too. Someone had been watching her.

                After several moments of nothing, she started to calm down, and wandered towards the tree, with a small knife driven deep in its trunk. The blade was of a dark, rippling metal, hilt wrapped in dyed, dark blue leather. Two carved lines on the small pommel created a curved ‘v’ shape, the inside of the carving turning up a blood red.

                The warrior had recognised the throwing knife from somewhere, and it looked to be bad news. She left the knife where it was and took one last look out at the trees before heading back in the direction of the drop ship. She had one more stop to make before she returned though.

***

                Clarke walked swiftly this time. Once again, after a long trek through the woods the found her feet taking their own direction. Hours passed and she found her way seamlessly through the dark until she stood on the threshold.

                Taking a purposeful step, she entered the Glade and felt her worries melt away once more. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to lie down with her feet in the still, crescent shaped pool, and snack on sweet red berries. Coming further into the Glade's confines she looked over at the berry bushes, and found herself disappointed. The plant only held hard green beads, berries not ripe and half of them not yet growing at all.

                She supposed that was the trouble with going back through time.

                Clarke sat down and listened. Once again she felt the attentions of the ancient trees turned towards her, but this time they all seemed expectant; it was as though they had finally agreed on something, and now expected her to make the next move. Weary as she was from sleepless nights and the stresses of today, Clarke once again, didn't find their attentions strange. Instead, her eyes moved pointedly to the very center of the clearing, to the spot inside the pools crescent and she saw something sticking upright, out of the dirt. She crawled towards the middle, wondering what had grown there, but shuffled more quickly as its shape sharpened into view.

                A sword was driven into the dirt. Its sheath lay on the grass perfectly aligned in front of it. Her heart beat faster as she knelt before it. It was a long, single edged sword. The end near the hilt had three gaps in its centre, with the bottom looking slightly serrated. The handle itself was made of tones of grey and silver; the colours formed a pattern that looked strong and powerful.

It was Lexa’s sword.